


No Comparison

by Writcraft



Series: Rainy Weekend Prompts [6]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bad Flirting, Bickering, First Dates, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, Getting Together, Head Auror Harry Potter, Kissing, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, OMG They Were Officemates, POV Harry Potter, Post-Hogwarts, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-04
Updated: 2020-03-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:35:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23014105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writcraft/pseuds/Writcraft
Summary: Sharing an office with Severus is driving Harry mad. When he discovers Severus isn’t quite as straight as he first believed, Harry decides there’s only one way to resolve their constant bickering.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Severus Snape
Series: Rainy Weekend Prompts [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1649929
Comments: 37
Kudos: 550





	No Comparison

**Author's Note:**

  * For [torino10154](https://archiveofourown.org/users/torino10154/gifts).



> Written for Torino who requested 'Snarry' and the prompts 'Earl Grey, Crow's Feet and Spring Showers' for my Rainy Weekend Prompts. This got way longer than intended but consider it a gift to thank you for all the work you do with the Snape Potter community. I hope you enjoy it darling!

Harry stares at himself in the mirror, which is not something he spends a great deal of time doing as a rule. He finds himself reminded of the raggedy stuffed teddy bear he took from the bin after Dudley discarded it with a wail, demanding something new. 

Harry pokes at the corners of his eyes and pulls a face at his own reflection. He’s getting crow’s feet already and he’s only in his thirties, not to mention the lines on his forehead that are the direct result of an unhealthy amount of aggressive frowning. His once ink-black hair is peppered with the first signs of grey, something Harry finds quite distinguished on other men. There’s nothing distinguished about Harry’s hair. It looks like a flock of Golden Snidgets have been fighting over flobberworms in it.

With one last frown at himself, Harry adjusts his jumper and leaves the harsh fluorescent light of the bathroom to make his way back to his office. Some people might say Harry’s looking tired of late because of the hours he’s been working as Head Auror, or the nights with his friends that always seem to end up splashed all over the gossip pages. Others probably whisper about the toll fighting a war as a child has taken on him, or the highly public nature of his divorce. 

Harry knows exactly why he looks rough as a Kneazle’s arse. It has nothing to do with his job, his love life, a few pints of ale or his childhood, and everything to do with Severus Snape.

“Sharing an office with you is giving me crow’s feet.” Harry storms into his office and closes the door with an aggravated slam, glaring at Severus who looks quite unperturbed. “I hope you realise that.”

Before the Ministry cutbacks partially caused by some Muggle fuck-up they’re calling ‘Brexit’ whatever that is, Harry used to have an office to himself. It was lovely and quiet. He was starting a magical snow globe collection. He can’t even see them anymore, on account of the extensive poisonous—and toothy—plants that Severus seems to favour. 

“I wondered what was taking you so long in the bathroom.” Severus sniffs, studying an enormous old book with an oversized magnifying glass. “I imagined it was either constipation or vanity.”

“I’m going to speak to Kingsley about this. _Again_.” With a huff, Harry sits at his desk and ignores the growing pile of paperwork he hopes might just go away. He fiddles with a paperweight and watches Severus press close enough to the page that his nose almost skims the surface. “Have you ever considered glasses?”

“I’m perfectly capable reading books without any assistance, unlike some I could mention.” Severus raises his head from the sizeable tome and gives Harry a pointed look. “I’m trying to discern if there’s anything _beneath_ the text. There appears to be a drawing on the parchment that the print has obscured.”

“Why don’t you try magic?” Harry doesn’t really give a fuck about whatever Severus is trying to do, but he’s sure there must be easier and less aggravating methods than sitting around with a huge magnifying glass. 

“Why don’t I, one of the most powerful wizards in recent memory, try magic?” Severus rolls his eyes. “I already have, you nitwit. It doesn’t assist so I’d thank you not to cast spells at the last surviving copy of Bianchi’s _Potio Difficilis_.”

“Potions research?” Harry narrows his eyes. “That has fuck all to do with the stack of cases we’re supposed to be working on.”

“Correct.” Severus lifts his book with two hands and studies the spine of it, as if that’s going to do anything. A waft of dust rises into the air, before settling back onto the pages as he places the book carefully back on the desk. “I have research to undertake, papers to write and clients to attend to. I can’t be expected to spend all my time doing your job for you.”

“I’m not asking you to do my job, I’m asking you to do yours.” Harry glares. Technically he’s Snape’s superior, not that you’d ever know it. “Kingsley hired you to help with Ministry business, not to sit around doing your own research and annoying me.”

“Very well, _Head Auror Potter_. I assume you have made progress on the Smith, Patel, Truman and McGrath casefiles?” Severus turns from his book to hold out one long, bony hand. “I will conduct my review of the paperwork now, if you wish.”

“I—” Harry stops. He hasn’t done any of the paperwork, as Severus clearly knows from the smug look on his face. “I’ll have them on your desk on Monday. Maybe Tuesday. That’s not the point, there are plenty of other things you can—”

“Ah, yes,” Snape interrupts. He runs one narrow finger down a roll of parchment which appears to contain a list of tasks to complete. “About those _other things_. I require the analysis of the unidentified substance found at the Marchman Manor, 26 Poppy Drive and the National Portrait Gallery to establish if there’s any connection between them. I believe you were going to see if our Unspeakable team has made any progress?”

Harry is very proud of himself for not punching a delighted Severus in the nose. It’s possible Harry might not have done that either, but in his defence, he’s had plenty of other stuff to do. Getting into a heated debate with Robards and Dawlish over Puddlemere United’s chances this season didn’t help matters, admittedly. There are very few Aurors as skilled in the practical side of things as Harry, but there are also very few as bad at administration.

“Just get on with whatever the hell you’re doing and give me some peace and quiet,” Harry growls. He tries to relax his forehead, conscious of the havoc his permanent frown is causing. “It’s not surprising I can’t get any work done around here.”

Harry stands, unable to sit at his desk while Severus pushes his nose into another dusty book. He paces around the office, rearranges his painting of a snoozing Dumbledore and wonders if he should just knock off early and go flying. 

“And you say _I’m_ the one creating distractions,” Severus mutters. “Your magic is vibrating so hard it’s a wonder the windows haven’t shattered. Might I suggest you find yourself a young wizard who can relieve some of those pent-up frustrations? It might make work more tolerable for the rest of us.”

“A young wizard?” Harry stops pacing and stares at Severus, who meets his gaze without flinching. “You can’t go around telling people to have sex to relax, that’s completely inappropriate workplace behaviour.”

“I don’t go around telling anyone anything of the sort. I prefer not to speak to people at all.” Severus gives Harry a disdainful look. “However, you’re clearly in the throes of a mid-life crisis and I understand seeking a younger partner is the sort of thing one does. That, or purchasing a new broom.”

“I’m not—” Harry stops and pushes a hand through his hair, trying to quell his anger. He takes a steadying breath. “I can’t believe you think I’d have any interest chasing after twenty-year-old wizards.”

“Can’t you? You seemed so disgusted by the notion of ageing earlier.” Severus studies Harry with a cool, dark gaze. “It may have escaped your notice Harry, but I am fifty-two years of age. Forgive me if I have precious little sympathy for an attractive young man barging into my office to complain about his _crow’s feet_.”

Harry swallows, watching Severus return to his magnifying glass again as if to indicate the conversation’s over. He might find Severus annoying, but part of him enjoys the back and forth between them, even if it is giving him wrinkles. Things have been a lot more interesting at the Ministry since Severus arrived. Arguing makes the days pass quickly and on occasion their debates have been just that—energetic, enjoyable discussions that have continued long into the evening. The junior Aurors always treat Harry with such deference and respect, it’s nice to have someone around who doesn’t give a fuck about minding their manners around him. 

Harry takes in the streaks of grey in Severus’ hair and the angular lines of his face. He’s never thought of Severus as old—which he isn’t. Severus is attractive, when you get past how annoying he can be. When he’s not sweeping around like a bat in his wizarding robes, he wears smart Muggle waistcoats and fitted trousers with crisp white shirts that make him look rather striking. There’s something so compelling about Severus. Even at his most annoying, he’s miles more interesting than half the people in the Ministry. He’s powerful, too. Arrogant with it, but in a way that Harry recognises is more about protecting himself and reminding others—and perhaps himself—of his value. 

Severus intrigues Harry, but he’s always pushed any thoughts of that nature to one side. No good can come from thinking of Severus as remotely attractive, something Harry knows from bitter experience. Developing even a passing interest in a straight wizard is a recipe for disaster. Given the proximity of their current working situation he has no desire to make things even more frustrating. Harry supposes it’s one of the reasons he gets so infuriated with Severus. Lashing out at one another might be taking its toll on his skin, but at least it maintains a certain level of emotional distance. Not to mention that whatever the dynamics between them might be in practice, on paper Harry is still technically in a superior position and he has no desire to make Severus uncomfortable. The thought of doing so makes Harry’s skin crawl. 

“You don’t understand how difficult it is to try to meet people when you’re like me.” Harry’s anger dissipates and he returns to his desk, settling heavily in his seat. He’s surprised when Severus turns from his book to listen, unusually quiet for a change. “It’s different when you’re gay.”

“Is it indeed?” Severus murmurs. He arches an eyebrow at Harry, his expression implacable. “Do explain.”

“I know it’s stupid. I’m still young by Muggle standards and even younger by wizarding ones.” Harry tries to gather his racing thoughts, strangely nervous about explaining something so intimate to Severus. “Maybe it’s the clubs, the gyms or the way Muggles use all that technology I don’t understand. It makes me feel ancient and boring. I don’t have any connection with the people I meet on the scene. I never have. It’s hopeless.”

“I see.” Severus contemplates Harry. “And yet I am a gay man and nearly two decades older than you. I rarely find meeting people a problem. Might I suggest the issue is either your own, or the establishments you’re choosing to frequent.”

Harry’s cheeks heat and he stares at Severus, unable to believe for one minute that he’s got it so wrong. He opens his mouth and closes it again as the silence in the room looms between them.

“You can't be gay, I’d have known. We share an office together. It would have come up.” Harry admits that might have been an unfortunate choice of phrase, based on the way Severus' lips tilt into a dangerous smile, his eyes glinting. Harry swallows. He folds his arms and glares at Severus, largely to avoid staring at his crotch. “When did this happen?”

“Strangely enough I can't remember the precise time the notion occurred to me.” Severus sounds very much like he's trying not to laugh. “I’m surprised you find the idea so outlandish. I’m not sure how you developed the notion I’m romancing witches.”

“I haven’t developed the notion you’re romancing _anyone_ ,” Harry splutters. “Are you?”

“I’ve been to dinner with multiple men and half of them collected me from this office.” Severus gives Harry a strange look. “What did you think we were doing?”

“I thought you were doing some boring potions stuff, I didn’t know you were—” Harry stops, unable to believe what he’s hearing. “All those wizards were picking you up for _dinner dates_?”

“I had dinner with all those wizards, yes, you impertinent little brat. As for anything else, I’m afraid no one has held my interest for long enough to make it past dessert in a very long time.”

Harry stands so quickly his chair almost topples over. He flicks his wand and his coat flies into his outstretched hand. It’s only four in the afternoon but Harry’s been working until at least nine every night this week, mainly thanks to all those arguments he's been having with Severus. He’s more than earned an early finish.

“Can that wait?” Harry nods at Severus’ book, certain it probably can wait as it’s not even proper Ministry work. He pulls on his jacket and checks he’s got his wallet and wand. 

“It’s less urgent than your paperwork so I expect it can.” Severus stands and slips on his own coat, a classic black tailored wool that Harry’s always thought suited him well. “Is there any particular reason we’re abandoning work so early?”

“We’re going out for something to eat,” Harry replies. He yanks open the office door and lets Severus go first, not missing the flicker of an amused smile on his face. He falls into step beside Severus and gives him a quick look. “You’ll probably want to skip dessert this time, and not because I’m boring you to death.”

“Well, well.” Severus wraps his scarf around his neck and holds open the lift door before standing close enough to Harry that their shoulders brush together. “That sounds like a challenge.”

“You’d better believe it,” Harry mutters. 

The lift whooshes upwards and Harry tries to slow his galloping heart.

*

“Did you have anywhere in particular in mind?” Severus rubs his hands together for warmth when they come to a stop in a quiet residential street close to the Ministry. The air is cool and crisp in the aftermath of a spring shower, the pavements slick with rain.

Harry realises it’s been so long since he’s been on a date, he has no idea where on earth to go. He tends to go for cosy Islington pubs, East End curries or when he’s feeling like a night out, he heads into Chinatown or trendy tapas restaurants in Soho. For the most part he usually dines alone and favours places that are suited to that. He doesn’t think being squished together on a crowded tapas bar with a row of Muggles is quite right for a first date. The only suitable places Harry can think of are the restaurants he used to frequent with Ginny but returning to them with Severus feels weird. From the sounds of it, Severus has been wined and dined by half the bloody Ministry and it seems important to get the choice of location right. If Harry cocks that up, there might not be a next time and he’s starting to realise he would very much like there to be a next time, and a time after that.

“There’s that Michelin star place in Knightsbridge,” Harry suggests. Hermione raved about it after Ron took her there for a birthday treat last year. Ramsay something or other. Tiny plates of delicate French cuisine aren’t really Harry’s thing, but he has a keen desire to impress Severus and make their dinner date better than all the other ones he’s been on.

“There are several, I believe.” Severus seems surprised by the suggestion, his brow furrowing as he takes in Harry’s prevaricating. “An unexpected choice.”

“I want it to be nice.” Harry frowns, wracking his brains for a better idea. Severus doesn’t exactly seem thrilled by the idea of French food. “Hermione said their roast pigeon is delicious.”

A mangy looking pigeon lands at their feet with a squawk, hopping along and pecking at some crumbs by Harry’s boots.

“How enticing,” Severus replies. The pigeon flutters its wings at Harry and gives his boot an aggressive peck. “I hope you don’t feel you have to go to such lengths in order to make this dinner a success. Something simpler would suffice.”

“I bet you went to all sorts of nice places with those other wizards,” Harry says, gloomily. He falls into step beside Severus as they begin to stroll. 

“Perhaps,” Severus acknowledges. “However, if it’s one-upmanship that’s bothering you, I think you’re forgetting that you already have a distinct advantage.”

“Really?” Harry glances at Severus, curious about this mysterious advantage he has. “What’s that, then?”

“None of those other wizards were you,” Severus replies. He stops outside a grocers clearly not expecting a response, which is good because Harry is stunned into silence. “Can you cook?”

“Nothing fancy.” Harry manages to speak at last, when Severus gives him an impatient look, clearly waiting for a response. “I can make cottage pie, but it’s pretty rustic.”

“I suggest you put the idea that I’m fond of fine dining in the same place you put the ridiculous notion I’m heterosexual.” Severus rolls his eyes and steps to one side, gesturing for Harry to go into the shop ahead of him. “Most evenings I’m quite content with a cheese and onion sandwich.”

“Hard to beat a good sandwich,” Harry agrees. “I prefer ham and mustard, myself.”

“I have little interest in expensive restaurants, forced pretension and trying to negotiate London on a Friday night.” Severus points to the crates of vegetables surrounding them. “I suggest inviting me to your home is a much more appealing alternative.”

As soon as Severus mentions it, Harry wonders why he didn’t think of the idea himself. London is mad on a Friday and even at this time the pubs will already be filling up with people keen to get the weekend started early. All Harry wants is somewhere to talk to Severus properly, outside the Ministry. The idea of spending time together in the privacy of his house has its advantages, the possibilities making Harry's body heat with anticipation. Even if it means his pretty basic cottage pie—not to mention his home—will be under scrutiny, it’s a vastly more attractive idea than picking his way through a miniscule plate of pigeon and trying to understand French. There’s only one word he knows that sounds French and he doesn’t think they serve that on most fine dining menus.

“Fancy coming back to my place for dinner?” Harry grins at Severus, grabbing a few carrots and potatoes out of a crate. “I make a mean cottage pie.”

“What a generous invitation, Potter.” Severus glances down the aisles and heads off in the direction of the alcohol. “I’ll bring the wine.”

*

Cooking with Severus is surprisingly entertaining. Harry half expected Severus to have extensive opinions on the way ingredients should be chopped, turning cooking into a Potions class. Instead, he’s content to let Harry follow his usual recipe without comment and even rolls up his sleeves to help with the preparation. It doesn’t take long at all to finish the mash and the filling, which they leave to simmer in a large pot.

“Wine?” Harry washes his hands and hangs a dishcloth under the sink, grabbing a bottle opener out of the drawer. “Or is it too early?”

“It’s not too early, but I think…tea.” Severus rolls his sleeves down again and buttons them carefully. “Earl Grey, if you have it.”

“Somewhere.” Harry roots around in the cupboard, eventually extracting the tea he bought for Hermione. He grabs a regular teabag from a nearby pot. “I’ll join you.” 

Harry busies himself boiling the kettle, his back to Severus. He’s quite relieved they’re not starting on the wine early. He wouldn’t want to get drunk and stupid. Considering he spent most of their time chopping staring at Severus’ dexterous hands, there’s no telling what he might end up saying. Tea is better. Safer. Nobody makes weird sexy comments about somebody’s fingers after tea. 

“Would you like a hand?” Severus asks, which is frankly the worst comment in the world. Heat creeps up Harry’s neck and he mentally shakes away the images the question conjures.

“No, it’s done.” Harry’s voice is gruff, and he clears his throat. “I can show you around the house if you’re interested? I've just finished decorating.”

“If you wish.” Severus takes the offered mug of tea, giving the _Go Gryffindor!_ mug Harry selected for him a scathing look. “I assumed you would still be in the old Black property.”

“I moved out of Grimmauld Place ages ago,” Harry replies. “Kreacher looks after it now, he’s always been happiest there.”

“You gave your house-elf a three-storey home?” Severus raises an eyebrow at Harry, taking a sip of his tea. 

“I know what you’re thinking.” Harry shakes his head. “And you’re wrong. It’s not because I’m a spoiled rich kid who can go around giving people houses.”

“I wasn’t thinking that,” Severus replies. He relents when Harry gives him a knowing look. “Perhaps I was thinking along those lines, but I’ve long since revised my opinion of you as _spoiled_.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Surprised but pleased, Harry gives Severus a warm smile. Pink rises in Severus’ pale cheeks and he studies his tea with a scowl, which is interesting to say the least. Perhaps it’s not just Harry that’s caught off-guard by the unexpected turn their afternoon has taken. “I keep it safe for the Order. It’s for them, not for me.”

“I wish Kreacher a long and happy life without interruption in that case,” Severus replies. “I sincerely hope the Order of the Phoenix doesn’t need to reform in my lifetime, or yours.”

“Me too,” Harry agrees. “I tried to live there—it does seem a waste to have a big house like that and not use it—but I never got on with it. Even Ron and Hermione tried living there for a while, and they hated it too. It always felt like the walls were angry, as if the house didn’t want us there. You’d go mad living somewhere like that for too long.”

“Yes, I imagine you would.” Severus’ expression darkens and Harry wonders if he’s thinking of Azkaban. After a moment, the cloudy expression lifts and his tone is placid once again. “Arriving at your new home was a welcome surprise. I had prepared myself to contend with Alastor’s wards.”

“Oh yeah.” Harry winces. “It might have ruined my advantage, if my house started attacking you.”

“It would take significantly more than that,” Severus murmurs. He clears his throat. “Do you wish to show me around?”

“I’d like that.” Harry leaves his cup of tea on the side next to Severus’ and casts a charm to keep them warm. “Follow me.”

Harry leads Severus out of the kitchen, relieved to have the opportunity to change the topic. Despite their work-related bickering, the truly serious conversations about the past happened long ago. They took place when Severus was in Azkaban and Harry was fighting to get him out. The memories of those times move through Harry’s mind like storm clouds. The snarls, the curl of Snape’s lip—because it was _Snape_ then, never Severus—and the moments they nearly came to physical blows. After their encounters furious rage burned through Harry and sent him into the driving rain. He would fly over the ocean away from the prison, using violent thunderstorms to wash away everything to do with Azkaban and Severus Snape. 

That was then. The way they are now might seem acrimonious to those on the outside, but Harry knows what arguing properly with Severus feels like and it’s not the silly sniping they do at work. Although they might still have their moments of annoyance with one another, the heavy weight of their history has been aired enough over the last decade. Harry wants to focus on that warm ball of possibility that gathers in his chest as he thinks of all the things they could be, instead of focusing on everything they were.

The house tour passes the time easily and Severus seems content to linger in the places Harry shows him, as if he really is interested in getting to know Harry’s home. It’s fun, showing Severus the little allotment in the back garden and hearing his scathing opinions on Harry’s carrot growing methods. It’s even better to see the look of horror Severus gives the downstairs loo after discovering that’s where Harry displays his Order of Merlin. It’s only towards the end of the tour of the house that Harry realises the last remaining room is his bedroom.

 _Shit._ It dawns on Harry not only that his room could do with a tidy, but worst of all there’s a bottle of lube on the bedside cabinet. Wincing, he pushes open the door and situates himself in front of Severus to partially block the view into the room. He tries to do fancy non-verbal, wandless spell to conceal the offending item. Unfortunately, concentration is key when attempting that sort of magic. The new proximity of their position and the strange look Severus gives him doesn’t help matters. Instead of tucking the lube safely away, Harry’s spell sends the bottle flying across the room, where it lands on the floor directly in Severus’ eyeline.

“I’ve had more subtle offers,” Severus says. He sounds like he’s trying not to laugh.

“Shut up.” Harry’s cheeks flame and with a muttered curse he picks up the bottle and shoves it into the drawer by his bed, picking up some stray socks on the way and chucking them in the laundry basket. “Not a word.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Severus moves closer, his gaze taking on an unexpected warmth. “You have nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“Easy for you to say,” Harry replies, grouchily. “You didn’t just fling your lube at me.”

“No.” Severus turns his snort of laughter into a cough and touches his fingers to Harry’s arm. “Harry, it may surprise you to learn that male pleasure is not entirely alien to me. It’s hardly a shock that you use lubricant for sex or…other things. I’m more surprised it’s been used so recently, with all the storming around you’ve been doing.”

“It hasn’t been used for sex. Not for a long time.” Harry relaxes, his embarrassment ebbing away. He supposes it’s not like he’s accidentally opened the door to a secret sex dungeon. “The other stuff doesn’t take the edge off the same way.”

“Doesn’t it?” Severus raises an eyebrow, his lips twitching. “Perhaps you’re doing it wrong.”

“I’m not _doing it wrong_ ,” Harry splutters. “I’m perfectly capable of having a wank, thanks very much.”

“I’m delighted to hear it.” Severus mercifully starts to make his way out of Harry’s den of iniquity, when something stops him in his tracks. “What’s this?”

Harry sincerely hopes Severus hasn’t stumbled upon a dildo or the lion thong Charlie bought him from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. He moves next to Severus to find him holding one of the distinctive black Ministry boxes that contain medals. It has the name _Severus Snape_ embossed on the top, in cursive silver script. 

“That’s weird. I thought I put it away ages ago.” Harry frowns at the box. “It’s your Order of Merlin.”

“I can see that.” Severus’ voice is ragged. “Why on earth do you have it?”

“Because you didn’t want it.” Harry glances at Severus, uncertain how to handle the strange, quiet tension that has sucked all the earlier good humour out of the room. “You said you’d rather wipe Filch’s arse than suffer the indignity of receiving an Order of Merlin from me.”

It stung at the time, not that Harry ever told Severus that. It was embarrassing enough that Harry was tasked with giving out medals he still thinks should have been awarded by Kingsley. He hated the way the Ministry made him the face of so many formal functions after the war, when he was still a fledgling Auror who hadn’t even begun to process all the things he went through during the fight against Voldemort. The whole sorry affair was made even more awkward by the fact he personally recommended Severus for the award. He fought hard for it, assuming Severus would be happy to know his work had been recognised. Considering so many people at the time were still distrustful of his true allegiances, Harry hoped it would help bring a reclusive Severus back into public life if people understood how much he had done for them. It was years ago. Harry had forgotten all about it, until now.

“I specifically said I didn’t want this award.” Severus’ voice is hard and cold. “As far as I was aware it was never presented in absentia.” 

“I know, and I respected your wishes. It was never announced at the ceremony, but it doesn’t matter if you turn it down or not. The fact you were awarded an Order of Merlin still gets recorded.” Harry tries to keep his voice calm and level, uncertain about whether he did the right thing. “They make the medals in advance because they don’t expect anyone to turn them down. Not many people do.”

“I’m still not entirely sure why you of all people would have it in your possession.” Severus sounds less angry at least, but his voice is faint. He opens the box slowly and frowns at the large, round medal, touching his fingers to the green ribbon.

“Because I asked Kingsley if I could have it,” Harry replies. “You know what the Ministry’s like with all those office moves. Things always go missing. I wanted to keep it safe, in case you ever changed you mind.” He gives Severus a weak smile, trying to lighten the mood. “They look great in the downstairs loo.”

“I see.” Severus closes the box abruptly, the _snap_ of it loud in the quiet room. He puts it back on the shelf and turns to Harry, his eyes dark and intense. “I hope you realise we could be eating mouldy bread on a damp rock in the middle of a ten-force gale and every other dinner date would pale into insignificance.”

“Oh.” Harry stares at Severus, dumbfounded. A giddy rush soars through him, like swooping into the clouds. “Because of my advantage?”

“Yes, Harry,” Severus murmurs. “Because of that.”

It should be strange kissing Severus Snape, but when their lips meet it seems as natural as breathing. Harry is taken aback by the fierce rush of desire that grips him with overwhelming force. It’s as though all those fights at the Ministry have been weird foreplay, which perhaps they were with hindsight. The sheer relief and release of channeling his complicated feelings for Severus into another kind of passion entirely crashes over Harry. 

“I’ve always liked these waistcoats,” Harry breathes. He undoes it, sliding his fingers over the shirt underneath. “So many buttons.”

“You could always just rip it open,” Severus comments. Harry’s pretty sure he’s joking from the smirk on his face. “It strikes me as a very Gryffindor way of getting straight to the fucking.”

“Is that where we’re going?” Harry licks his lips. “Because you already know where I keep my lube.”

“That I do.” Severus chuckles under his breath. He tugs the base of Harry’s jumper, his voice terse. “Off.”

“Yes.” Harry yanks off his jumper and throws it on the floor as Severus helps with the button situation by taking off his own shirt, dropping it on a nearby chair. “Merlin, you look good.”

“An immensely flattering observation coming from a man no longer wearing his glasses.” Severus sounds filthy when he’s teasing Harry, his voice rich and warm. It sends pleasant shivers through Harry's body that intensify when they settle on the bed and Severus runs his finger over Harry’s jeans, where his hard cock strains against the seam. “What do you enjoy?”

“Everything.” Harry laughs breathlessly. He bites back a groan when Severus rubs the heel of his hand against him. “I like all the usual things. There’s some weirder stuff I’ve thought about but never tried. You’ll probably only get those out of me with Veritaserum.”

“I’m sure there are more enjoyable methods of encouraging you to talk.” Severus undoes Harry’s jeans slowly, watching with hungry eyes as he strips out of them. “You must have some preferences.”

“One or two.” Harry kisses Severus again until his breath gets harsh and ragged. “I’m very enthusiastic about orgasms, if you fancy giving me one of those.”

“I imagine you are.” Severus rolls his eyes. He slips his hand into Harry’s boxers, eliciting a grunt of pleasure. He wraps his fingers around Harry’s aching prick and squeezes lightly. “ _And_?”

“I’m— _fuck_.” Harry bucks up into Severus’ hand, clutching the sheet tightly. “I’m versatile, sort of.” 

Severus raises his eyebrows and slips his hand from Harry’s cock. He reaches for his wand and uses a brusque _Accio_ to retrieve Harry’s lube. Mercifully because Severus is good at magic, just the one bottle lands in his outstretched palm. He nudges Harry to strip out of his underpants, before putting a generous squeeze of lube in the palm of his hand and returning to stroke Harry off. 

“Sort of?” Severus slides his hand just how Harry likes, picking up quickly on the way the messy slick and a tight grip sends a pleasurable heat shivering across his skin. 

“I prefer—” Harry stops to let out a strangled _ungh_ of pleasure as Severus works his hand expertly over his cock. “S-stop.”

“ _Stop_?” With a huff, Severus removes his hand and gives Harry a disgruntled look that turns into a curious one. “You don’t strike me as the sort who would enjoy edging.”

“Edging?” Harry frowns at Severus, then laughs. “Oh no, that’s not what we’re doing.” 

He makes quick work of Severus’ trousers and watches as he drops them in a careless pile on the floor, together with his pants. Seeing the hard, long weight of Severus’ cock sends a surge of pleasure through Harry and he gives his cock a quick squeeze at the base, wetting his lips. 

“Do you care to tell me what it is that we’re doing?” Severus gives Harry an amused look. “Aside from gawking at one another.”

“There’s a lot to gawk at,” Harry says, appreciatively. He grins when Severus raises an eyebrow at him. “Fine. I wanted to get the conversation out of the way, and I can’t think with your hand on my cock.”

“You do flatter me so.” Severus stretches out and tilts his head to look at Harry. “Continue.”

“When I said I’m into most of the usual stuff, I meant it. I prefer bottoming to topping but I’ll give anything a go. I love sucking cock, fingers, rimming, wanking. If you wanted to get kinkier, I don’t have any experience but I’m pretty good at picking up new things and I bet you have good ideas. I don’t speak French, but sometimes it’s alright.”

“French?” Severus gives his cock a slow stroke, the flush on his cheeks and the rough note to his voice indicating Harry’s preferences are appealing to him. It’s so fucking sexy watching Severus touching himself like that, Harry thinks he’s going to lose his mind. “If that’s a euphemism, I’m afraid you’re going to need to speak more plainly.”

“I don’t speak French, but there’s one word I know,” Harry replies. He leans in to place a damp kiss on Severus’ neck, kissing the crook and curve of it. He loves the way such a light touch can make Severus shiver. He runs his lips up, speaking quietly into Severus’ ear. “ _Frottage_. That’s a good one.”

“Oh yes.” Severus sounds breathless, leaving Harry pleased with himself. “That’s a very good one.”

They use plenty of lube and arrange themselves in a position where they can rub, touch and grind against one another. It takes a bit of trial and error, but Harry is instantly comfortable with Severus. He doesn’t mind the way they slip and slide in the wrong kind of way before getting the rhythms just right. He begins to realise that Severus’ thirst for knowledge has distinct advantages when it comes to fucking. He takes an interest in learning the ways of Harry’s body and it doesn’t take him long to work out exactly what leaves him desperate and wanting, clutching at the sheets as Severus pushes against his body. 

They move in different positions, but there’s nothing quite as good as the heavy weight of Severus when he pins Harry down. He curls his long fingers around Harry’s wrists and kisses with fierce, demanding confidence. As his voice roughens with arousal it sounds even sexier than usual. Harry can’t get enough of him, sliding his hands over every inch of Severus’ skin. He finds he wants to kiss him everywhere, burying his face in the musky crook of his underarm, tasting the scar on his neck, lingering over the left nipple then the right before moving back to Severus’ lips. Harry wants to take Severus into his mouth so badly, but he wants to do this first. He loves the way their bodies push and pull together, the way they fit just right when they get the hang of it. He thinks he could grind against Severus until his limbs ache and he’s sweaty and exhausted. 

At last, Severus brings their cocks together in his slick hand. It doesn’t take much for Harry to shudder into a delicious climax, watching eagerly as Severus takes just a few moments longer to finish himself off. Harry runs his hands over Severus, pulling him in and kissing him slowly as their breathing settles into something less jagged and broken. The warmth of the aftermath gathers around them and they explore one another’s mouths with lazy kisses.

When they finally break apart sticky and spent, Harry curls up next to Severus and traces his fingers over his chest as it rises and falls. He’s reminded of the stupid argument which brought them here in the first place and admonishing look Severus gave him when he started going on about his wrinkles. It’s suddenly important to Harry that Severus knows unequivocally that it’s not the sort of thing that’s ever bothered him. Harry might not look in the mirror and think he’s gorgeous like Gilderoy Lockheart probably does, but he’s not sitting around slapping on face cream and worrying about laughter lines. 

“I can almost hear your brain whirring,” Severus says. “Is there something on your mind?”

“Not really.” Harry props himself up to look at Severus. “I just wanted you to know I was being stupid before, at the Ministry. I don’t sit in front of mirrors counting my grey hairs.”

“If you plan to tell me my personality is more important to you than my looks, I will be forced to hex you,” Severus murmurs. “Although I appreciate the clumsy reassurance. It did seem somewhat out of character. For a minute I wondered if I was sharing an office with Lucius Malfoy.”

“Now I’m going to be the one throwing hexes.” Harry pokes Severus in the side. “Did you ever sleep with him?”

“Don’t be disgusting.” Severus wraps his arms around Harry and closes his eyes with a sigh. “I trust you’re no longer quite so appalled by the signs of ageing?”

“Of course not, I never was. I was just riled up and itching to have an argument over something stupid. If I’d have known fucking was an option, I’d have much preferred that to all the fighting.”

“Well now you know,” Severus replies. “Perhaps working together will be tolerable after all?”

“For us perhaps. I don’t know about anyone else.” Harry pulls a face. “Now I’m even less likely to get my paperwork done, I'll be too busy imagining us fucking on my desk. Kinglsey’s going to have Kneazles.”

Severus rolls his eyes. “Your lack of interest in anything that doesn’t involve putting yourself in mortal danger is infuriatingly charming.” 

“I’m interested in some things that don’t put me in mortal danger.” Harry slips his hand under the sheets, resting it on Severus’ belly. “Very interested.”

“That at least works to my advantage.” Severus kisses Harry quickly before pulling back so they can look at one another properly. “I suppose I could assist with your paperwork. I don’t find it nearly as unbearable as you seem to.”

“I’ll help you work out what that picture is in that book of yours if you want,” Harry offers. The image of Severus pouring over his big book with a magnifying glass sends a fond rush of affection through him and he’s sincere in his desire to help. It’s nowhere near as boring as paperwork. “I like a challenge.”

“You do indeed,” Severus agrees. 

“We haven’t even had dinner yet.” Harry grins at Severus. “But I’d say it’s been a success, even if there won’t be many surprises left for the second date.”

“You underestimate me, Potter.” Severus’ voice has that silky-smooth cadence that makes Harry’s insides squirm pleasantly. “Besides, I imagine when it comes to you there’s always a surprise or two lurking around the corner.”

“I’ll say.” Harry laughs and pushes Severus back on the bed, straddling him. “But some surprises are good ones.”

“Hmm.” Severus pulls Harry down into a heated kiss. “For once, I couldn’t agree with you more.”


End file.
